


Revival

by TheClassics4



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassics4/pseuds/TheClassics4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin takes Belle to Dr. Frankenstein when his magic won't work in reviving her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revival

**Author's Note:**

> This is very angsty and I blame my sister. I'm sorry in advance.

“What’s taking so long?” Rumpelstiltskin snapped. He’d been standing before Victor for over an hour and there was still no sign of change. He barely looked down at the table below him; the one glance he’d got of Belle had almost undone him completely. Under the sheet she was naked and her face and shoulders were bruised and her skin torn. She was pale. Lifeless. So unlike how he’d ever seen her before.

The grave she’d been given by the clerics was shallow and he hadn’t even needed to use magic to get her out. He had dug silently below the tower while screams from their victims cried in his ears.  Her coffin had been a makeshift box that hadn’t even been nailed down. Her body had been stiff in his arms, for some reason he’d thought she would be limp, but he’d had to use magic to make her limbs flexible.

Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t help another glance down at her. Immediately he regretted it, but it was as if he didn’t believe what he would see there. At the Dark Castle he’d found Belle sleeping a countless number of times. When he glanced at her now, he almost thought he would see that face again. He’d heard before that sometimes when death comes, it looks as if the victim is sleeping.

Not for Belle. A sleeping death would be for those who had a peaceful passing. Belle had been tortured and burned and flayed before violently taking her own life. She was not sleeping peacefully in death.

Her features now were tight and stretched, anything but peaceful. This world was drained of color and, though she was from the other world, she seemed even more colorless than this black and white laboratory. Gods, he wanted to reach out and hold her hand, comfort her. But she could not be comforted. Not yet at least.

“I…am not sure,” Victor turned away from the table to look at his gadgets. All this was nothing to Rumpelstiltskin, but when he’d overheard Jefferson speaking of how this man could bring back the dead with his _science_ , Rumpelstiltskin had come, desperate for any way to bring back his true love.

Right now, his science didn’t seem to be doing any better than magic. Victor flipped some switches, making Belle’s body twitch a few times. Rumpelstiltskin winced at the sound of electricity jolting through her. No matter how hard he tried to assure himself this was not hurting Belle he couldn’t seem to believe it. This was not just a body on a table, not just an experiment. This was _Belle_.

She could not be gone. Her body could not be empty. It just couldn’t. How would he live his life knowing that Belle was _gone_? Not just from him, but gone entirely. She’d wanted adventure in her life, wanted to see the world. Had she gotten to do those things before her father betrayed her? She had wanted to see him as well.

Rumpelstiltskin had spent many nights weeping because of what her father had done. Rage would turn to tears and he would sink down onto the shattered glass. Her father had betrayed her. Belle didn’t have anyone else. Her father, who she loved more than Rumpelstiltskin, had sent her to her death. What had her final thoughts been? They certainly hadn’t been of him. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he was worthy of her final thoughts.

Dr. Frankenstein had turned back and was looking at him. Luckily Rumpelstiltskin had kept himself from weeping again, but only just. He blinked a few times and demanded the doctor try it again.

“I’ve already tried it four times, I don’t think—”

“It’s not the damned _heart_. It’s your skill as a doctor. You’re useless and inept and your _science_ is a fucking joke,” Rumpelstiltskin delved his arms beneath Belle, wrapping the sheet around her body and carried her from the laboratory. Her head lolled back onto his arm as he strode to his portal.

Jefferson awaited him, lying on the ground with his head propped against the trunk of a tree. His hat covered his eyes and Rumpelstiltskin had to kick him in the leg. He got up slowly and lazily spun the hat. He didn’t comment on the girl in his arms, didn’t even look at her. When they’d finally left the black and white world, they parted ways silently, Rumpelstiltskin emptying all his gold into Jefferson’s hat.

The magic it took to take him to his castle left him drained and he collapsed on the floor, almost dropping Belle’s dead weight. He needed rest. It had been…almost a week since he’d had any form of sleep or food. His magic was slowly draining away with his strength. Slowly, he rearranged the sheet to make sure Belle was entirely covered and picked her up again.

The dungeon was prepared for her final resting place. A proper coffin had been conjured for her, rugs and curtains had been set up to make the space less cold. He’d done it all when he’d first heard of her death. It was as if he knew that the doctor’s science wouldn’t work. He set her down on the velvety cushions of the coffin and pushed back the hair from her ashen face. Tomorrow, once he had his strength, he would restore her broken body, fix every bone and lesion, give color back to her decaying flesh. It would not help her rest in peace, but it would give him at least a little peace of mind. He didn’t deserve it, but he was selfish and knew he couldn’t come back here if she were to slip any further into decomposition.

With a soft ting, the glass lid was secured against the coffin’s body and Rumpelstiltskin turned. A drink. That was what he needed. If he didn’t there would be no sleep tonight, only tears. Sinking down into his chair beside the fire, he conjured the strongest whiskey he could. It was dwarf alcohol, the strongest known in their land, and the only thing that could dull the Dark One’s senses.

He’d had two mugs full when there was a sound that made him jump to his feet. It was coming from behind the door and his half-drunken mind thought it might be Regina having finally found his dagger. But it was a soft sound of the latch trying to be opened. He stood, his hands braced at his sides, ready to hurl magic at who would dare to disturb him.

The door came open slowly and a small, pale figure stumbled out onto the floor. The sheet fell away from her shoulders and she was coughing. Rumpelstiltskin sprinted to her, knocking over his chair in his haste.

“Belle,” he said, taking her chin in his hands to make her look at him.

“How did I get here?” she gasped.

“I brought you, sweetheart,” he turned her face. Life had returned to her, coloring her features. Her eyes were scared, but the same blue they’d been before. He leaned back on his heels to look at the rest of her. The marks that had blemished her were still there, but with a wave of his hand her skin was healed and all traces were gone.

“Are they really gone?” she asked, her eyes closed.

“You’re here,” he assured her, pulling her into his arms. The bared skin of her back was warm under his palm and her breathing made his hair flutter. He tightened his grip around her, “You’re safe.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered and he could feel her tears falling onto his neck. Warm and hot. “I tried to be brave. I just _couldn’t_.”

“Belle, you don’t have to be brave anymore,” he said, stroking her back. “I’ll protect you.”

She gave a little sigh and her hand in his hair tightened just a bit. Then, she released him, “H-how did you—”

“I found a doctor.”

“So…it wasn’t magic? There will be no price to pay?”

Rumpelstiltskin almost laughed. Belle had always been so smart. He stroked her cheek, “No, darling. You’re here for good.”

Belle smiled at him and the rush of joy at it was squelched when he saw the tiny movement she made forward. But she stopped herself. She wanted to kiss him. And he was desperate to kiss her. Let the consequences be damned. He’d fought off the magic before and he could do it again. Without hesitation, he crushed her lips with his. He needed all of this before True Love’s magic started in, needed to taste her, to feel her, to hear her happy sounds.

There was no tug inside him though. Before, there had been a kind of pulling inside him as his magic evaporated from him. Confused, he pulled away. Belle let him go, silently, but when he looked at his hands, she took them.

“You’re not changing?” she said, examining his rough greenish skin.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed. He cursed himself for not knowing. Why should she still love him back? He’d let her go, tossed her aside, told her that he was the one who didn’t love her.

Her fingers were on his cheek, making him look up. “I still love you,” she said.

“Oh, Belle.” Her words banished any confusion he’d had. He could kiss her now without fear of losing his son. He didn’t need to know why.

Her one hand, holding the sheet to her released it and slipped beneath his coat. The dragon hide creaked loudly as she helped him to shrug it off and fell with a thud from his shoulders. Her fingers were stiff and she had to let him undo the rest of his clothing. His vest went, then his shirt, and while he undid the clip on his leather trousers, Belle pressed light kisses to his shoulders and chest.

Her lips were warm and he was hard for her already. He could barely work the fastenings to expose himself and gave up more than a few times to abandon himself to kissing her. Their bare midsections pressed together as he held her to him and he kissed everywhere he could without releasing her.  

Gently, he laid her down before the fire and gazed at her. She was back. The moment he thought he would never see had come. They were about to make love and she was willing and smiling and alive. She pulled him down to her, pressing a light kiss to him.

Slowly, he let himself push inside her. He didn’t know if she was still a maiden, but even when he was entirely inside her, she gave no sign that she was hurt. She was the first to move against him. Belle pulled her legs around his hips and rolled against him. He moaned, pushing back into her movements. Their mouths never left each other’s; even when he was sure she couldn’t breathe, she didn’t break apart from him.

Her fingers pulled at his hair, yet pressed him closer at the same time. She pulled from him, only to jerk herself forward again. How she moved so smoothly under him was a mystery, but whatever brought her pleasure gave it to him too.

Rumpelstiltskin could feel her coming. He’d been moving so slowly, he was sure that it would take longer to give her this pleasure. It was going to be over too soon, their first time, over in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t enough. She bit his shoulder as she faltered beneath him, giving a small whimper. He held her for awhile, joined and still throbbing for his own released, but she was crying against him. She was trying not to let him hear, but her tears gave her away.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, stroking her hair. It felt like silk under his palm, no longer stringy and coarse, but full of her life again. “I love you, Belle.”

She leaned back and smiled at him, tears streaking down her cheeks. When she kissed him again, he didn’t want to pull away, but he did.

Rumpelstiltskin awoke on cold stone—on the steps leading to the dungeon. He was alone, clothed, and empty. A broken sob escaped him as he scrambled from the stairs, uncertain of whether to look for Belle in the great room or back in her tomb. The decision tore at him for a few dragging moments before he rushed back down into the darkness.

“Belle!” he called. His heart jumped with hope at the open door, but he couldn’t remember if he’d closed it before he left. He crashed through the doorway and almost toppled onto the coffin. The sight he was met with caused a pained half whimper half scream to escape him.

She was still there. Her body was still there with grey skin, dry lips, dark bruises around her eyes. He fell back on the ground, clutching his head in his hands. Gods, he was still hard from his dream and it disgusted him.

A drink. He needed a drink. Enough to ensure he didn’t dream again tonight.


End file.
